


The greatest form of art

by basinnit



Series: 100 days of writing challenge [29]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Angst, BOTTOMI, Body Worship, Fallen Angels, Hell, M/M, Porn With Plot, Religion, demon!Sunarin, honestly i dont fucking know how to tag this shit, implied nsfw, mentions of art, slight mentions of pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:26:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26952844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basinnit/pseuds/basinnit
Summary: “How does it feel to be in love?” He asked, curious, innocent, tender, saint.The feeling came with the ink-black eyes, watching him cautiously. It came with the soft, unmarked skin, the lashes casting a shadow of perfect cheeks, the pretty brows, and the breathtaking curl of his hair, ink-black, just as his eyes.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Series: 100 days of writing challenge [29]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1798981
Comments: 5
Kudos: 62





	The greatest form of art

**Author's Note:**

> *scratches head* 
> 
> wassup folks, i'm back, and i have more food.
> 
> This one is for Domis and Nana, I love both of you so much.
> 
> PLEASE read the fucking tags to this one, because it has implied nsfw here, although I tried to avoid writing pure smut. AND it is a religious theme, so if you think you might get offended by the male x male love relating angels, gods, and other divine beings, please, leave. 
> 
> have fun reading

The act of creation was something he learned to do from God himself, back when he was still in his grace. Hell was lonely, so he played and sculpted, created, and smiled. 

“Rumors say you disobeyed God to be thrown out,” The demon said, the first and most perfect one that came out from under his careful hand. 

“Ya shouldn’t believe anything yer told, Rin-chan,” He said, face bright with amusement. 

He remembers the reason for his fall a lot different than the rumors made it.

Humans.

Those interesting, little creatures, little toys created by God. So small, so imperfect, so pitiful. Yet, there was something in them that made him interested. He used to spend all his time watching them, an easy little smile adorning his lips as he watched, and watched.

Humans hated to be alone. They liked warmth and food, the presence of the second human. Humans wanted to create more of them, considered their  _ babies  _ the biggest blessing they could achieve.

Humans stole, lied, and cussed at the God who created them. 

Humans created art. Atsumu loved to watch those little creatures create. They painted, sculpted, carved, wrote, sang, played. They learned what God gave them and craved more, more, more.

The greatest form of art came with love, they said.

At first, he didn’t understand. He watched the tender smiles, the bodies shifting in intimacy, begging for him to move his eyes away, yet he watched, unable to stop. What was that they craved, needed more than air, that made them so happy, so miserable, so alive and dead at the same time?

Love is something I created for humans, God said. He hummed quietly, closing the book he was holding. It was a human book, one he sneakily took to read, hoping no one would notice. 

“How does it feel to be in love?” He asked, curious, innocent, tender, saint. 

The feeling came with the ink-black eyes, watching him cautiously. It came with the soft, unmarked skin, the lashes casting a shadow of perfect cheeks, the pretty brows, and the breathtaking curl of his hair, ink-black, just as his eyes.

It came with his fingers trembling as he moved the perfect white clothes away from his shoulders, letting the silk fall, exposing that perfect body. It came with the shaky breath he didn’t have to take, but he did, as Atsumu moved his fingertips all over his body, tender, careful, curious. It came with his lips counting the moles on his skin, scattered all over his body, his own constellations later created somewhere far in the universe, where no one but them knew. 

It came with a full-body shudder, as Atsumu kissed him, desire blossoming just under his skin, threatening to pour out, to devour them, make them drown with it. 

When they first tried the act of love, Atsumu felt euphoric. 

The greatest form of art is love, he remembered, painting the porcelain skin with his mouth. On that perfect, perfect body were now patches of his salvia, lips, tenderness, and need, little kisses shared in the heat of the moment. 

It came with them, sinking slowly into the warmth of sin, shared between them. 

He listened to the breathy moans the other male took, back arching away from the bed, ethereal against the white sheets. It was music, he thought at that moment, creating his own little noises at the back of his throat, hiding his face in his lover’s neck. 

It was perfect, he thought that time, and the next one, and every one after that before it was too late.

“Love was something created for humans,” the God said, cold and distant, as he’s always been. Atsumu stood there, firm and fuming, watching him with his gold eyes.

“Then maybe we’re far more human that you wanted us to be, Kiyoomi,” He said.

The black curls bounced as God moved his eyes away from him, a silent verdict of Atsumu’s life.

Fallen and stripped of his wings. 

It hurt enough for him to think he was losing his mind. The great archangel, sentenced to falling because he  _ loved _ . It’s unfair, his mind chanted, like a prayer, one of those he used to murmur against the porcelain skin of Kiyoomi, their God. 

While falling, his mind was quiet.

He smiled at the memory of Kiyoomi tugging his robe and kissing him when no one was looking. He smiled, remembering how those black curls felt between his fingers, how those lips felt against his own.

“Rumors also say that I’m evil, but do I look like that?” He said to Rintarou, his right hand, the best of his creations. Rintarou shook his head, clever eyes watching him for a while.

Atsumu looked like an angel, despite the black of his clothes. He still had that handsome face of his, the golden locks, the golden eyes, the pretty smile. The only thing that was missing was his wings.

Sometimes, he missed his name. 

He knew he was a  _ Miya.  _ That much he was allowed to use, the stinging reminder up there sat his brother, unharmed, silent, perfect. He knew his brother’s name was Osamu, and yet sometimes his own slipped his mind, not used for decades. 

Humans, the little creatures he adored so much, shuddered at the sound of his new name. They whispered  _ he’s evil  _ like it was a truth everyone should know. Like they should fear him, pray for days and nights to God, to make them good.

The humans weren’t the only ones, praying on their knees, a silent need to be good.

“It’s a bad habit of yers to come down there,” He mused, arching his brow carefully. The air always seemed a little colder with him in Atsumu’s chamber, making him seem untouchable. Out of Atsumu’s league. 

Sometimes, he missed Heaven. Sometimes, he longed to his brother, his friends, his wing. Yet heaven always seemed a little too cold, a little too strict and boring for his own liking.

Hell, however, was everything he needed.

Especially with their God, arching his back over Miya’s sheets, those ink-black curls scattered all over his head like a halo. Atsumu breathed, lazily, and he bowed down, worshipping Kiyoomi like no one ever did.

“Atsumu,” His name fell from Kiyoomi’s lips, forbidden from anyone else’s. It was breathy, pleading, whispered into the night, like it’s him who’s the God.

Their God brought him closer, kissed him like he wanted to devour him, and Atsumu grinned, grounding Kiyoomi’s body among the sins and unspoken words. 

“It’s a secret, Atsumu,” Kiyoomi always said before leaving, rushed and cold again, yet his name was spoken softer, with weird tenderness that has Atsumu wild, feeling almost dizzy. He always nodded, rolled his eyes, and watched Kiyoomi leave, passing Rintarou on his way back.

It was a secret, and yet it seemed like everyone knew.

“He’s a fucking liar,” Rintarou once said, venom dripping from his voice, eyes moving with Kiyoomi’s body. 

“Yeah, and he could kill ya with a snap of his fingers, Rin-chan,” Atsumu shrugged, uncaring.

“He threw you out of heaven because you loved him, and now he’s coming here whenever he wants to,”

Atsumu turned to him, a wild look in his eyes.

“Just think of how annoying it must be knowing the devil himself is fucking their God’s brain out,”

Rintarou scowled, turning away and leaving, accompanied by Atsumu’s loud and full laugh. Somewhere behind the door, Kiyoomi smiled. 

**Author's Note:**

> my twitter: @SHlGAR4Kl


End file.
